


Failure

by Officer_Jennie



Series: InkTober 2018 [7]
Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-27 22:24:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16228520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Officer_Jennie/pseuds/Officer_Jennie
Summary: In any other situation, the frequent lulls in conversation would have been concerning. Madara was a fast burning fire, loud and grumbly, snappy, rarely so quiet, so subdued. But Hashirama knew, all too well, what he was feeling.Or: A mission goes horribly wrong, and Madara seeks out his friend for comfort.





	Failure

**Author's Note:**

> Short piece for InkTober. Prompts: Exhausted, torture, and tragedy.
> 
> This was supposed to go up days ago, but, let's be honest, I'm a lazy piece of shit. Written and edited in one afternoon.

Perhaps Hashirama should’ve been more concerned that someone had broken into his house. As it was, however, he just found himself groaning, gently tossing the covers off. At Mito’s groggy mumbling, he gave a quick kiss to her cheek, mumbling something out himself that he hoped resembled “I’ll take care of it, go back to sleep.” She waved him off, and he stiffly stumbled out of their room, mind barely awake enough to bemoan his bones cracking.

He blinked, squinting at the lights on in his living room - lights he was positive he turned off before turning in for the night. There was also a mass of wild black hair taking up most of his sofa that was definitely new, as well as a pile of red armor just inside the doorway. Since his mind was being extra slow to spite him, it took until he saw the gunbai resting against his door to recognize who had invaded his home.

His first coherent thought was that it’s two in the morning.

His second was that the bottle Madara was clutching to his chest was his good sake.

His third thought, which quickly overrode the other two, was that Madara had been due back from his mission two weeks ago. That one woke him up enough to recognize the situation for what it was.

Having a strong suspicion it was going to be a long night - morning? Hashirama wandered into the kitchen, making himself a strong cup of coffee before heading back to his best friend, seating himself on a cushion right in front of the couch.

After half a cup of black sludge, just the way he liked it, and several minutes of eying the Uchiha’s back, Hashirama finally spoke up. “Wanna talk about it?”

Madara’s usual gruff voice was strangely quiet when he simply said no - likewise he sounded oddly sober, considering the nearly empty sake bottle in his hands.

Hashirama sighed inaudibly, deciding to busy himself with a book - a fantasy novel Tobira had picked up for him, one about the kami and nature spirits, truly fascinating stuff - knowing that pestering his friend wouldn’t do any good.

It was another hour, and several thrilling chapters later, before Madara started talking, his back still turned to his friend, voice slightly muffled by the soft back of the couch.

“It was his first mission outside the village. It should’ve been simple - it was supposed to be. And I…” Madara swallowed heavily, then fell silent once more.

Hashirama put his book down, folding the corner of his page in the way that made his otouto want to rip his hair out. He turned to the clearly distraught man behind him, clearing his throat and making sure to put just enough authority in his voice to allow the Uchiha situational distance. “I’ll need a full mission report, Madara.”

The man twitched, seeming to consider something, before exhaling deeply and sitting up, putting the sake on the kotatsu before beginning his report.

Being the Hokage, Hashirama did his best to listen impassively as his friend spoke. He had taken a younger Uchiha - Saito-kun, if the brunet remembered correctly - on a routine courier mission on the eastern border of Fire Country. The mission itself had gone just fine, completed a day ahead of schedule, scrolls reaching their destination with no problem.

As they were headed back, however, was where they ran into trouble.

“I’ve never seen Kumo troupes this far east.” His voice had turned grim, the ease of routine reporting fading away as his coal gaze turned distant. “They were trained well, warriors without a doubt. Against that many soldiers…”

He trailed off. After a few minutes of staring into the middle distance, it was clear to Hashirama that he wasn’t going to start back on his own. The Senju fidgeted a bit, pursing his lips - he was going to sound like an ass no matter how he asked this, he knew, but it was literally his job to know.

“Did he fall in battle?”

The huffs of laughter he received were both surprising and lacking any humor. “If only. That would’ve been better.” His voice was quiet, near indiscernible at the end, before he cleared his throat and continued. Both men pretended not to notice how full his eyes were, how strained his voice sounded.

On a normal day, Madara would have had no problem taking on a platoon of Kumo soldiers - even as skilled as they were, even as numerous. But he was preoccupied watching his companion, and injured from a mission earlier that week; injuries that weren’t life threatening perhaps, and easily ignored during a courier mission, but a hassle to deal with in an actual battle.

Half the group had retreated mid-battle, leaving the rest to fall by Madara’s gunbai. It took longer than usual, but he felled them nonetheless, no new wounds to show for it.

When he turned around to check on his kin, he realized his error.

“It took a week to track them, all the way to Kumo,” his voice was low, the calm tone doing nothing to fool either of them. It was laced with sorrow and guilt. He allowed his head to hand forward, black mane falling to obscure his face. “I…I could barely recognize what they’d left of him…”

After a short pause, he cleared his throat, straightening his back up, doing his best to keep his tone professional. “I don’t know how much information they got from him, but he knew little to begin with. His clearance level was nonexistent, and his position within the clan was low.” He added, as an afterthought, “Though he had yet to awaken the sharingan, I managed to secure his eyes after four days of searching.”

A pregnant silence between them. Just as Hashirama was about to speak, Madara took a deep, shaky breath, pushing ink-black hair out of his face. He didn’t bother to hide the hurt in his voice. “He looked so much like Jiro.”

To hear that name was more than a little shocking. Hashirama had heard it only once before, years ago - Madara rarely brought up his late siblings, the wounds still fresh to all who had lost loved ones in the war. He watched the Uchiha curl back onto his side, wild black locks once more being the prominent view.

“Have you told his family yet?”

In any other situation, the frequent lulls in conversation would have been concerning. Madara was a fast burning fire, loud and grumbly, snappy, rarely so quiet, so subdued. But Hashirama knew, all too well, what he was feeling.

“Hitomi-san didn’t want him to fight. Didn’t want him to serve and die like his father had.” Madara turned just enough to face him, meeting his gaze for the first time that night. “How do I tell her, Hashi? How do I look her in the eye, and tell her I failed him?”

Hashirama studied the coal eyes, keeping his gaze steady, voice calm and sincere. “We failed her.”

“We?” A small frown, eyebrows crunching together. Hashirama gave him a sad smile.

“I promised an end to pointless bloodshed, to small graves. I failed her, just as much as you did.” He patted his friend’s shoulder, resting his hand there, squeezing ever so slightly. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

When Madara didn’t argue, Hashirama stood up, reaching out and pulling his friend up with him. “We’ll tell her in the morning. Come on, you need some rest. You look awful.” Madara just nodded wearily, allowing himself to be lead down the hallway - but making sure to turn off the lights as they went.

 

* * *

 

Tobirama honestly wasn’t that surprised to wake up to his brother crawling into his futon with him, used to it after literal decades of living with the Senju’s notorious leech. He was, however, a least a little shocked to have the Uchiha hedgehog shoved against his side. But, after a moment of blinking groggily at the dark invading blobs, he just closed his eyes and cuddled up to the warmth, deciding it was still much too early to bother caring.

Madara fell asleep quickly enough, sandwiched between the two Senju brothers. He was more than happy to forget his troubles until the sun came up.

**Author's Note:**

> Madara's brothers - besides Izuna - were never named in canon. I've seen a few people give them various names, and one name (Jiro) kinda stuck with me? I honestly don't remember who's used it before though.
> 
> Questions/comments are appreciated and welcome!


End file.
